Becoming Human, Book One: Ape Child
by TheNewJeniferChurch
Summary: A very different family will have the raising of The-Boy-Who-Lived. And that changes everything!
1. Little Boy Lost

**Becoming Human**

 **Book One: Ape Child**

 ** _Foreword_**

 _My favorite kind of Harry Potter story is one that removes him from his relatives' "tender mercies", allowing him to be raised by a loving parent or parents. Also, I like it where people get called on the carpet for their more grievous mistakes, but then get a chance to redeem themselves. So, into Harry's world, enter Edgar Rice Burroughs, and the Clayton family._

 _I am quite fond of the first four Tarzan books, but I'm really not interested beyond them, nor in ERB's other writings. And so I attempted to bridge a gap between these stories with a timeline and a family tree. It's not that I think contact with the Mangani must be linked to genetics, but more that the Claytons have some cosmic bull's-eye on their backs that causes them to get stuck in Africa without a stitch. The timeline and family tree will be part of the story at some point, but not in this book, nor the second. For now, just know that a connection exists._

 _Enjoy!_

 **Chapter One**

Little Boy Lost

Albus Dumbledore was a man who always believed that he was doing the right thing. He certainly always did what he believed to be right, as any man should, but it became apparent that he had begun to believe he could do no wrong, that he was incapable of making mistakes so long as he acted on his conscience. He stopped checking, stopped being careful. He grew arrogant, and in so doing, as was inevitable, he eventually made a mistake, and it was a grievous error indeed.

Vernon Dursley looked, on paper, like a perfectly dull Muggle; husband and father, a sales representative for a tool manufacturer, normal car, normal house, normal stay-at-home wife, normal (if large and spoiled) son. But these were only surface facts, observable at a distance. There was no investigative background check of Mr. Dursley's criminal or financial records, no examination of his past, and though his wife's jealous hatred of all things magical was well documented, her sister's express wishes, written in her last will and testament, were ignored because she was family. Dumbledore left Harry Potter there with a pat on the head and a platitude to his worried colleague.

But Vernon had a criminal history that would have shocked and angered Dumbledore if he had bothered to look. Vernon's job at Grunning's was a front, and he was a numbers man for one of the biggest human trafficking rings in the Old World. Once certain that his wife didn't care for the boy, Vernon wasted no time in calling his contacts in the business to dispose of his sudden asset. The boy would not fetch a very large price; he was still in diapers, and he would need a great deal of training. But he was quite a lovely child, and there was a lot of potential that would bring more money than usual for a child of that age.

Three days after Harry Potter was so blithely dropped on the step of number four Privet Drive, he was just as casually placed on a ship bound for China via the Cape of Good Hope. But that was the last anyone heard from that ship, and it never reached its refueling stop in South Africa. Somewhere near the equator, Harry Potter passed from human knowledge.

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The ship, named the _Margerie_ , was not crewed by the most stalwart of men, nor the most moral. But none were sadistic nor pedophilic because the owners of the ship didn't want any merchandise to be broken or misappropriated before it reached harbor.

Care of human cargo was, in fact, left to an old Spanish slave, a man who had been owned by the traders all his life, and bore the scars to prove it. He was soft-spoken and kind, though, and Harry had no fear of the man, happily burbling at him with his baby words and the few real English words he knew. Sometimes, Harry would cry for his mother, naturally missing her, and the old Spaniard would sing an old Castilian lullaby to him. Within a week, the baby was singing along as if Spanish was his native language.

Harry was headed for a short and miserable life, for his beauty would land him in very perverted hands. But the Spaniard was a respected slave, known for spotting useful traits in his charges, and with the boy's apparent gift for languages, he thought he might have a way out for him. He'd still be a slave, but he could be trained as a translator instead of a rent boy if the gift held true, and that would be a much more pleasant existence.

He spoke to the captain, who was in charge of who each "package" was sold to. "He doesn't speak much yet of any language. Too little. But he picked up Spanish like his Mama was Castillan, and the little bit of French and German I tried on him he got very quickly as well."

"All right. That's a gift that could be very useful to the organization. I think that fool Dursley might have sold us more of a bargain than he realized. If the boy is for real, I might not sell him at all. I could use a translator to help me in business dealings. Thank you, Roberto."

That night, the slave slept more soundly, knowing he had done his best for the sweet little boy. But the life Roberto was envisioning for Harry was not to be.

The storm came out of nowhere; a massive equatorial squall that was destined to destroy all that crossed its path. The ship had no time to turn before it was beset by fifty-foot waves and hundred-mile-per-hour winds. Roberto and Harry were tossed from their beds, and though he squealed a little in surprise, Harry didn't really cry. Roberto grabbed him and shoved him into a life vest. It was the baby's only chance at survival.

The ship was full of the shouts of seamen and slaves, but over all the noise was the sound of the storm. The wind howled and screeched, the thunder crashed and rumbled through the sky, and the rain was a constant hiss that ebbed and flowed in time with the wind. The sounds all combined in one massive crash, and were then joined by the rending of wood and metal as the ship cracked like an egg into two halves.

Harry was spilled into the water, but thanks to the vest, he bobbed back to the surface, and the violent sea carried him away from the wreckage so that it didn't pull him down with it as it sank. It seemed like the storm would last forever, but soon the rain stopped and the moon peaked out from behind the clouds. It made him think of Uncle Moony and Uncle Paddy, and then his Mummy and Daddy. He wasn't afraid, not really, but he was very upset, and bobbing like a cork in the open sea, he cried himself to sleep.

When Harry woke, he was naked except for the life vest, the sea having stripped his nappy off long ago, and he was lying on the wet sand of a little beach. He got up and decided that the first thing he needed to do was get the vest off, which proved to be an interesting puzzle for the boy. He was just about to get frustrated enough to cry, when he accidentally managed to open the buckle, even with his baby strength. Then, problem solved, he took in his situation. He was alone, on a beach, hot, hungry, and filthy. Faced with the enormity of the situation he did as was perfectly reasonable; he sat down and cried for his mother.

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Not too far from where little Harry was crying out, another creature was also dealing with the horrible grief of being alone. She had lost her little baby, a son only a few months old, to a mysterious illness. Little white spots had covered the belly, chest, neck and head of the little thing, while fever had raged through the tiny body, until finally he had stopped breathing and died*.

Her name was Neeta and she was one of the Mangani, the great apes who only existed in some remote and protected parts of Africa. She was the wife of Tazee, who doted on her, and he had promised to give her another child, but she was still despondent.

So when the cries of a child breached the jungle she didn't hesitate, crashing through the woods and undergrowth toward the pitiful sounds. But she was not the only one to notice them. Targash, the king of their tribe heard the cries, and began moving the tribe away, knowing the sound would attract the wrong kind of attention. Tazee heard, and watched as Neeta ran off. He wasn't sure what to think, but he hoped she would come back safe. Finally, the cry was also heard by Sheetah, the leopard, and to him the sound meant food; an injured animal crying out in fear and pain that would be an easy meal. He, too, started traveling toward the sound, and an unwitting race began between the Mangani she and Sheetah.

When Neeta reached the tree-line, where the jungle stopped and the beach began, she looked before running out, well aware that the crying would bring predators. Sure enough, she saw both a baby Tarmangani, crying with grief and frustration, and Sheetah, readying himself to pounce upon his prey. Deciding she wanted the child, she ran out onto the beach, intending on stealing him away from Sheetah.

The cat saw the ape and knew she meant to poach from him. Screaming in anger, he charged. Either he would have the child or he would have the ape!

She dared not stop to pick the boy up gently or to turn back the way she came, so she grabbed him gently as she could on the run and angled back into the jungle. She picked up speed and went up into the trees, which allowed her to change course quickly and throw obstacles into the path of the charging cat. Neeta found a dead branch across her path, and she broke it off as she ran, then stopped cold so that Sheetah would catch up to her. Then she slammed the heavy end down on his head. The strike landed him on the forest floor, and he was very shaky standing up. Sheetah screamed up at Neeta in anger, and she growled back defiantly, brandishing her club.

The leopard is opportunistic, much preferring the weak or injured meal over a protracted fight. A lone Tarmangani cub was one thing, but an angry Mangani mother was something else entirely. Anger had made him chase her, but now he was hurt and that made her far too much trouble. Still growling with anger, but no longer in a killing rage, the cat turned and walked away.

Not trusting that Sheetah would remain so reasonable, she gripped the little boy firmly and moved quickly out of his territory. Quiet since being roughly grabbed off the beach, the babe seemed content to watch the scenery fly by for now. Then, once at a distance she deemed safe, Neeta stopped, and set him down to get a good look at him. Never had she seen a Tarmangani so close before, and never one this small. She wondered what had happened to his mother, for no she would abandon a child so small when it was obviously healthy. He looked up at her, and his big green eyes surprised her, but the look on his face was perfectly understandable. "Wayat," she said, naming him Green Eyes, "I care for you now."

Harry looked solemnly at the big creature. His gift with languages was magical in nature, and he understood as much as his young mind could of her language. "Wayat?" he asked.

"Your eyes are green."

He nodded, accepting this. His Mummy's eyes were green, too. "Where's Mummy?"

"I don't know. But I will be mother for you."

Harry considered, and he felt something building in his chest. An offer of adoption had been made. Did he want the big monkey-like woman to be his new Mummy if his first one was gone? He remembered a few months back when Uncle Paddy had done a big magic thing with Uncle Wormy and Daddy. They had all said some words and the magic moved, doing its work. So he said to Neeta, "You will be my Mummy and I will be your baby. So mote it be."

Not sure why, but knowing he wanted her to. Neeta repeated him. "I will be your mother and you will be my son. So be it."

And that was all that was required. The newly named Wayat was a powerful magical being, and even for a child so young, the intentfull statements made the adoption permanent, binding and legally enforceable. Wayat's family history was changed in that moment, all of his magical records reflecting his adoption status, including the Potter Family Tree in his trust vault in Gringott's Bank of London.

Unknowing of the havoc they had just unleashed, the new mother and son embraced for comfort. Wayat had a lot to learn if he was to become an ape, and he would face many struggles, but Neeta would help him to see them through. For now, she said, "Climb up," meaning for him to get on her back and cling to her as a Mangani child would.

Wayat tried, but his little fingers and toes did not yet have the strength to grip her fur and stay in place. So when he fell off, she decided she would carry him in front, cradling him to her furred bosom and using only three limbs to move through the jungle, headed for their tribe's territory.

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The adoption changed the records, including changing his name to Wayat of Mangani and removing whatever tenuous hold his first mother's sister had on him. Because of this, the wards on her home had nothing left to hold onto, and their crash caused several alarms to go off across the UK; one in London, placed by Children's Services, one in Cardiff, placed by Remus Lupin, and one in Hogwarts, placed by Albus Dumbledore. Albus got two of his teachers, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape to come with him. Lupin arrived just after they did, and he ran up on Dumbledore.

"You said he'd be safe here!"

"Now, Remus, calm yourself," Albus soothed. "There does not appear to be any spell damage to the home, so let's not jump to any conclusions as of now. Let's knock and find out what has happened."

"Then get on with it," he growled. The moon would be full tomorrow, and the werewolf was feeling the effects of it.

Dumbledore knocked loudly on the front door of the perfect little Muggle house, needing to wake the inhabitants. Vernon Dursley came to the door after a few minutes, grumbling loudly enough to be heard through the door. Finally the locks began to turn. The door yanked open, revealing a tall, fat man in striped pajamas, a night cap and a dressing gown, his feet in bed slippers. "Do you know what time it—" he began, and then he really saw who was standing outside. "What the devil!?"

"Mr. Dursley, what's happened to Harry? Are the rest of you all right?" asked Dumbledore.

Thrown by the obvious concern, Vernon stuttered, "He-he ran away."

The lie was far too obvious. Remus's eyes flashed amber, and he would have gotten to Vernon, but Dumbledore held him back for his own sake.

Severus was closer than Minerva. In the quiet voice he used to absolutely demolish a class of fifth year Gryffindor dunderheads, he said, "A child who has yet to see his second Christmas ran away?"

Imagination was not Vernon's strong suit, but stubbornness was a trademark of his personality. "That's right! Ungrateful, he was! Didn't appreciate what we were giving him!"

Minerva said, "My first years can spin a better yarn than that!"

Severus smirked down at the horrible Muggle. "Not to worry. I have just the thing to loosen his tongue." He pulled out a phial from his inside coat pocket. "Veritaserum. Three drops on your tongue will not only loosen it but draw from it the truth, a flavor I'm certain it is unfamiliar with." He said it in a slow, quiet voice, guaranteed to cause fear and uncertainty.

Crossing his arms defiantly, Vernon growled, "Fine! You want the truth? I sold him to the trade, made four thousand quid! Petunia despised the boy, and if I can make her happy and make a little money as well, why shouldn't I?"

Shocked, Albus nearly whispered, "You would do this to family?"

"That wasn't family! That was a freak! You're all freaks! Now leave at once!"

"Mr. Lupin, no!" shouted Minerva. Remus wanted to attack him, wanted him dead. "The Ministry will put you down as if you were an animal!"

Albus broke in, his displeasure plain. "To whom did you sell your only nephew, Dursley? You said the trade?"

Vernon squirmed a little, but for some reason, namely Snape's Sticking Charm, he couldn't move, so he might as well keep talking. "The Drygioni Cartel."

A growl came from Severus instead of Remus. "The Drygioni!? You sold a child of fifteen months to be a Chinese rent boy? What the hell were you thinking!?" Remus moved again, but this time his old enemy was the one to stop him. "No. Listen to me. Of us all, you know I have no love for that boy or his family. But let me assure you, this will not go unpunished. Belatrix Lestrange and her husband are still on the loose, and I think I'll tip them off to this address. Double duty. They'll get caught torturing this flab to death."

Remus stared hard at him. Slowly, a grim smile came to his lips. "Very well." The werewolf turned on his heel and stormed off, then Apparated away.

Albus frowned at him. "Severus—"

"Don't, Albus. The Lestranges need catching, and the address of The Boy Who Lived will draw them like flies to honey. This waste of flesh will die, and your wolf will live. What were you thinking? Did you even attempt to investigate these people before placing your tiny savior with them? And how long has it been, hmm? The wards just went down, but how long has he actually been gone? I don't think the sale of the boy would have nullified your wards."

Minerva addressed Dursley. "What of that, Muggle? Now long has it been since you sold that wee bairn?"

"Two weeks," he said shortly. He still couldn't move.

Doing a quick calculation in his head, Severus said, "That's not enough time for him to have already reached China by ship."

Minerva frowned. "Muggles have faster ways."

"Yes, but my—the Dark Lord used these people. That's how I know who they are. They use ships and their usual route is the traditional one around the Horn of Africa. It's slower, but less conspicuous. And say what you like, the ruffians on those ships know better than to fool around with the cargo. Something must have happened to that ship, to the boy. Otherwise the wards would be intact and us none the wiser."

Albus nodded, but the other two ignored him. They were completely disgusted, but neither was ready to deal with him yet.

Minerva asked Vernon, "What was the name of that ship?"

"The _Margerie_ , out of Dublin."

Albus got Petunia and Dudley out of the house. Petunia tried to protect Vernon from the wizards, but Albus said, "Even if you could not care for the boy, do you honestly believe your husband did what was right?"

She thought about it, then looked the aged wizard in the eye. "No, it was not, and I do not excuse him. But this is not right either. You are not acting in the interests of justice. This is murder, and whether he deserves it or not is of no consequence. What would my sister think of all of you for this?"

"Don't pretend to know or care what your sister would want, Petunia," snarled Severus. "You survive only to care for your son." He got right up in her face. "Pray you raise him to be nothing like his father. Pack a few bags and leave. I'll know where you go. And if you raise anything but a healthy model citizen, free of your bigotry, you'll find me on your door step again." He didn't shout, but sturdier souls had crumbled in the face of his wrath.

Petunia was well and truly cowed, and within an hour she had herself and her son out of the house, pushing past Vernon and taking his wallet with her on her way out. She would have all she needed to start a new life for herself and her son, so long as she took the opportunity for what it was.

Severus pulled Vernon inside the house, unsticking his feet and placing him on the sofa in a full body bind. The Potions Master was much more versed in the trappings of the Muggle world than either Dumbledore or McGonagall, so he handled things from there on. He called the port authority and got the registration of the Margeri, then used it with his scrying map to find the ship. The scrying map was an illusory map, a globe that would show the lost item or person's exact location in three dimensions.

First, Severus scryed for the _Margerie_ , and he found her. But he found her at the bottom of the ocean two miles off the coast of Gabon. Then he scried for Harry Potter, hoping against hope to find him. But the spell found nothing. McGonagall said, "I don't understand. Shouldn't the spell at least be able to find—well—what's left of him?"

He heaved a great sigh, then looked her in the eye. "Not if he's become part of something else."

Her frown deepened with dread. "Like what?"

"A shark."

McGonagall's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped in horror.

Albus said, "Severus, are you sure?"

The former Death Eater's eyebrows flicked upward. "Nothing in life or magic is certain, Dumbledore. But many things are likely, and I don't see how the boy could possibly have lived through a shipwreck like that. The storm is still near that area and it's ripping the sea bottom apart. The wildlife would already have been disturbed, and a small boy is an easy meal."

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The next few weeks saw the assumption of Harry Potter's death spread over the wizarding world, and Albus Dumbledore's public trust eradicated. He was removed as Headmaster of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall taking his place, and then from public office on the Wizengamut and the International Confederation of Wizards. He was simply the Transfiguration teacher, not even given headship over Gryffindor House, that job going to Professor Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher.

Wayat would remain blissfully ignorant of the upheaval his disappearance caused, sleeping peacefully in his new mother's arms. It had been a difficult few weeks, and he was exhausted. Soon Wayat would meet the rest of his new family, and the tribe, and he would begin learning very different lessons from other boys his age. He would learn to be Mangani.

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	2. Growing Up Mangani

**Chapter Two: Growing Up Mangani**

The next ten years of Wayat's life were full of the only kinds of education available in nature; mother's instruction and practical experience. He learned how to grip with hands and feet, how to run like an ape, and how to speak the many languages of the jungle. He was slower to learn the more physical lessons, his human body not developing as quickly as those of the young apes around him, but just when Neeta started to worry about her adopted son, he seemed to get caught up to the others.

Neeta's mate, Tazee, was unsure of the hairless white waif, but he could see that mothering the child made her happy, so he allowed it. Still, the boy learned quickly not to annoy Tazee, or any of the other big males of the tribe. He learned to be faster than they who were stronger, and to prize speed above strength, but he grew in strength apace with his ape fellows. It was not long before he was just as good an ape as any of them.

When Wayat was five years old, a terrible thing began to happen. His eyesight began to dim, until he was so blind that he could not see even the ground beneath his feet. He huddled much nearer his mother in those days, but he knew that if things did not get better, then he would die. But once again, Wayat's innate magic acted to save his life, and his eyes were transfigured into a more correct shape. Still, Wayat never again took his vision for granted and listened intently to his other senses for the rest of his life.

When Wayat was seven, his mother bore another son to Tazee. They named him Abalu, Brother, and Tazee was not so bothered by Wayat anymore. Wayat swore to protect his brother, and to love him, and this softened Tazee to his step son. Neeta was quite happy, with all her family finally reconciled to one another.

Wayat's jungle education continued, and he learned from the animals of the jungle. He could understand every one of them, and speak to them, and so the birds and the little Manu, the monkeys, became his news sources throughout the land. It was through them that he first met members of his own species, though he did not recognize them as such.

They were tall and thin, with smooth, dark brown skin that was almost black it was so dark. Their hair and eyes were also dark brown or black, and they wore brightly colored pieces of cloth, glass and bone for decoration. They were a traveling party and were not paying much attention to the nearby jungle, walking at a leisurely pace and making joyful noise. It was a wonder, he thought, that they weren't attacked by a jungle predator. He said so to his companion, a young male named Nessen, and Nessen said, "Gomangani are easy alone, but often they are many, and they have the sticks that bark with fire."

So Wayat was warned off of the black men who were native to the area, and the two young apes faded back into the jungle. It would be several years before he saw another human.

When he was eight and a half years old, Wayat nearly died in the jaws of Sabor, the lioness. He was stalking a tender young rodent, and did not notice that she hunted it too. His ears saved him when she growled deep in her chest just before making the leap to catch the unexpected boon of a young ape instead of her expected lunch of rat. He ran for the nearest tree and scrambled up it with a speed the heavy cat couldn't match. It helped him that she was very pregnant, and slowed down by the cubs in her belly, but it was still an impressive feat. She caught the rat and Wayat went hungry, but he was alive.

Not two moons later, he began learning a new skill, that of the knife. He was watching a herd of Tantor, the elephants, from a safe distance as two bulls battled for the females of the area. One was older and more experienced, and the other was younger and stronger. The older male was clearly the winner, but the youth refused to back down, and his elder finally gored him with one of his massive ivory tusks. Wayat knew now how to overcome one of his key weaknesses, and he sought a way to make himself a tusk of some sort. He had no claws, and his teeth were too small to be weapons.

The wood of trees would not help him in his quest for a weapon. It was too fragile for this. That made him think of stone. He knew where there were some sharp rocks, so he went there to see if there was one shaped right for his purpose.

The rocks were all different shapes and sizes, but all were jagged and sharp. One was perfect, with a long, curved edge, a sharp point, and a narrow place that was only rough, not sharp, where he could grip it. He wrapped the handle in grasses, coated it with sticky sap, and wrapped it again, tightly. The sap would stick to the grass this way, and not his hand.

Then he started working with the knife, which he called Gashom, or Tusk. He learned to point the sharp edge away from himself, to plunge up with it, as a rhino or elephant would, and to slice down with it. He learned that the blade would cut even at slower speeds by cutting a squirrel in half one day to share it with Abalu. He also learned that the edge could be damaged if it struck something too hard, like bone, at too much speed. And after he learned that, he learned how to carefully chip at it with another hard stone to remake the edge.

Learning to remake the edge gave Wayat the idea to make new blades. By the time he was ten, he had three Gashom blades, and two shorter ones he called Rad, or Claw. And during the long wet season, he came to be very glad he had them all. That was when Sheetah came into Mangani territory for the first time in many years, and he thought he had caught a little Tarmangani (Great White Ape) unawares, and tried to eat him.

Sheetah gave no warning as Sabor had, but Wayat was facing him and saw him leap to kill him. He ran sideways to avoid the cat's slashing claws, and to grab Gashom and Rad where they lay in his nest. From there the battle was on. Sheetah was fast and lean, solid muscle, and really Wayat's only advantage was that the cat didn't expect much from him, and the very fact that despite being an ape, he was also human, and therefore smarter than Sheetah could be. Sheetah was powered by pure instinct and hunger, though, and among the beasts was no slouch when it came to brains.

Sheetah wasted no time when the boy ran, and he nearly missed the knife as he avoided the cat's claws, but he made it and leapt to grab a hanging vine, using it to make a turn around the tree and barrel into Sheetah's side feet first. Cat and boy slashed at each other, but only once did Sheetah's mighty claws connect with Wayat's unprotected skin, and it was only a graze. The ape youth escaped any further injury, slicing the cat's front shoulder as he escaped his jaws and then turning abruptly and cutting the hamstring of his back left leg. Then, because he had been taught to deal out death for the purpose of survival, but never for cruelty or fun, he dispatched Sheetah quickly, plunging Gashom between the shoulder blades and severing the spine.

The tribe had gathered to witness the fracas, and all were waiting to see what Wayat would do next. Would he challenge as an adult? Or would he take what he needed and run as a child? But he was not ready to be an adult, despite making his first major kill, and he took the second option.  
For himself and his mother, Wayat quickly removed the back leg of the cat, sliding Gashom between the ball and socket and popping them with a quick twisting motion, as efficient as any human butcher. The rest was claimed by the king of the tribe, Targash, as it should be.

Neeta had seen the whole incident, along with the rest of the tribe, and was very relieved that her son had emerged relatively unscathed. They also shared a portion of the haunch with Tazee, Neeta's mate, and he told the boy for the first time that he was proud of him.

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That year Neeta was given a new child by Tazee, as well, a girl they called Ballot because her face was a dark blonde color. Wayat thought she was cute, and vowed to protect her. Abalu, their other son was old enough to care for himself, but Ballot was not, and Wayat wanted her safe. Neeta said, "You are nearly grown, Wayat. Will you not seek a female of your own age?"

"Not yet. I am not ready. I would know if I were, because I would want to be with the females, or at least find them interesting."

"Perhaps next year then," she said, and left it at that. Wayat was glad she did not pursue that line of thought.

When Wayat was one moon shy of eleven, he was speaking with the manu, the little monkeys, when a bird landed in front of him who had something in her beak. It looked like a leaf or a bit of skin that had been folded and marked upon, being held together by a bit of a hard, oily substance. The marks were green in color, and the oily substance was red. The bird, who was an owl, dropped the item in front of him.

"Hello," Wayat said to the owl. "How are you today?"

The owl blinked at him in surprise. She had certainly not expected him to speak to her. "I'm good. Letter for you."

"What's a letter?"

"Never seen one?"

"No." That was even more surprising. But then again, he looked like an ape and was talking to animals. Post owls are very intelligent, and can make conclusions based on evidence, so she decided to ask more questions.

"Open the seal."

"All right." He did so, but the interior meant no more to him than the outside. "What is it?"

"Can't read it? Put a hair from your head in the inside." There were protocols for this, though the owl had never had to use them. "I take back, Mistress handle right."

"Who is Mistress? Where will you take this?" Wayat was curious as to where the owl hailed from, as he'd never seen her particular species before.

"Island in the north, rains in summer."

"How far north?"

"Moon dark to moon full."

"That's a long way for a little bird. Come, share food and water before you start back." Wayat had captured a trio of squirrels, and he peeled back the skin on one of them so that the owl could reach the meat. He also had a pouch he'd made from a deer's stomach that he used to carry water, and he poured a little into a leaf that had grown curved so she could drink from it.

She chittered a little, and ate what he offered. The squirrel was fresh and she hadn't had to catch it herself. "Strange boy, but nice," she said. Then she took the letter, including three strands of hair that Wayat pulled from his head, resealed it with a touch of her claw, and started the long trip back to the colder north.

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Professor Minerva McGonagall was the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and had been since the board of governors had sacked Albus Dumbledore for his part in the loss of Harry Potter, but though Fillius Flitwick as the Deputy Head sent out the letters, all returns came to her so that she could iron out any problems that a student might have with tuition, supplies or transportation. Sometimes she would receive a refusal, and would then need to go personally to the child's house to try and convince the parents, usually Muggles, to allow their child to come.

And sometimes, but very rarely, she would receive a letter back with nothing in it but a hair. This was the owl's doing, and it was their protocol for an illiterate or disabled student. On July 30, 1991, she received such a letter, and was both intrigued and worried. She'd only once had this happen before, and she wondered what they would be able to do to help the child.

First, she looked at the address on the envelope, knowing that they were magical in nature and would pinpoint the location with extreme accuracy. Wayat of Mangani, Son of Neeta, Upper Nest, Western Territory, Wilderness, Estate of John Clayton, Lord Greystoke, Gabon, Africa. Why had they sent a letter to somewhere that was not in the United Kingdom? The only reason she could think of was that the child had actually been born here, and then his parents moved away. Perhaps during the war with Voldemort? It would make sense. Nodding to herself, Minerva took the letter with her to the Book of Souls, where all magical births were recorded within the school's jurisdiction.

Opening the book to entries for 1980, she placed the hairs from the letter on the place designated for them and allowed the book to turn to the appropriate entry. Wayat of Mangani, born Harry James Potter, 31 July, 1980 to James and Lily Potter. Adopted 17 August, 1980, by Neeta of Mangani, daughter of Nessen, upon magical agreement by mother and son. Disability: Illiteracy, no knowledge of societal norms such as clothing or eating utensils.

Minerva was utterly shocked. Harry Potter was alive! But he had been adopted by magical agreement by some primitive tribe in Africa that wore no clothing and ate with their fingers. The magical agreement would have been enough to shatter the blood wards Albus had placed and set off all those alarms, so at least that made sense. She had never heard the name Mangani before. She wondered if they would allow Harry to come to them. She would have to make the effort, though. She could not allow him to slip through their fingers now that they knew he lived.

She walked over to the fireplace and threw in some Floo powder. "Fillius Flitwick's office!" she shouted, then she stuck her head through the green flames. "Fillius! Come to my office please. I've found quite a puzzle, and I'm going to need your help with it." She stepped back, and was soon joined by the diminutive professor. "Harry Potter is alive," she said without preamble.

"What!?" he squeaked. "How?"

"Apparently he was rescued and adopted that day, not eaten by a shark." Minerva gestured at the book, inviting him to read it.

He did so quickly. "Mangani? Is that the name of a tribe of natives?"

"I think it must be. I haven't ever heard the name. I have heard of Greystoke. That's the name of one of the seats in the Muggle House of Lords. But there's no reason to think this actually has anything to do with Lord Greystoke. He may not have had any actual control over his lands in Africa for decades. Politics there is often not only volatile, but violent."

"Well, there's only one thing for it. Send another letter, this time with a tracer on it, and follow the owl by broom. Then we can try to contact his new family about his attendance."

Wringing his hands, Professor Flitwick asked, "Do you think they'll try to forbid him?"

But Minerva shrugged. "Who can say? We know nothing about the culture we'll be contacting." She sighed, sitting back in her seat. "I do hope we can convince them. It would truly be a shame to lose him a second time."

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 _Note: If it seems like I went a little fast here, you're right. This chapter is really just setup, just a couple of things to give you an idea of where Wayat is coming from once we get into the story proper._

 _Reviews are quite welcome!_


	3. Introductions

**Chapter Three**

Introductions

It was a full moon later when Wayat saw the little bird again. She was holding another letter, and he wondered why this Mistress would send him another one when the first was so ineffective. Then he saw the strangest thing he had ever seen! It was an ape similar to himself, in that he had no fur, only hair on his head, but covered in some kind blue and yellow material and clinging to a flying stick! What sort of creature was this!?

"Where is that bird?" the creature said, searching, and a bit frustrated.

Wayat looked at the owl. "Is he looking for you?"

"Yes, and through me, you. Little Master has been following me to you, because I know the way."

"What kind is Little Master?"

"Same kind as you." Well that wasn't very informative!

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Professor Flitwick was tired. He'd been flying every day for two weeks following that owl, and now he'd lost it! It must have landed on a branch somewhere, but where?

After a moment, the little professor spotted his quarry, and the naked boy standing next to her. He was lean and well-muscled, his skin browned by constant exposure to the elements, and his black hair hanging in tangled hanks, but there was no doubt that he had Lily Potter's eyes. He wore naught but a woven grass band on each wrist with several stone knives tucked into them. "Ah! There you are. Oh, my, and not a stitch on you. Well, we'll see about that later. Sorry about the unexpected visit, young man, but since you couldn't read the letter we sent, we needed to come to you to read it. Our sources say you were adopted by a tribe called Mangani. May we go to them and speak to your adoptive mother?"

"No. A stranger cannot enter to speak to the tribe without danger. Better she comes to you. The owl is not good with naming things. What are you called, and what is your kind?"

"Well my name is Fillius Flitwick. As for my kind, I'm not sure what you mean. There could be many answers to that question." Had the boy been taught to distrust goblins or part-humans?

Harry pointed to the owl. "Her kind is owl." Then he pointed to the monkey over his head. "His kind is manu, monkey. I am Mangani, but Mother has told me she found me on the beach, that I was not born Mangani, great ape. She called me Tarmangani, great white ape, but I have never seen one. I have once seen Gomangani, who have black skins and wear bright colored coverings. I have seen bolgani and manu, who are like Mangani a little. Are you Tarmangani?"

Working through the descriptions, he realized they had been very wrong about just who had adopted this boy. "Yes, if I understand you correctly, Harry. We call ourselves human, or men and women. Those of us who can use magic also call ourselves wizards or witches. The black men you saw, however, are also human, just of another color. Have you ever seen a wolf pack?"

"Yes. Many colors, but one kind. I see what you mean. You have never seen Mangani, then."

Flitwick nodded. "You are right about that. I do not know of them at all! But I would very much like to see your mother, Harry, at the very least."

"Harry?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

Flitwick blinked, then realized what he'd done. "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that your name had been changed to Wayat."

"It must have been. I do not remember being Harry, only Wayat."

"No, of course you wouldn't. You were too young. Now, about your mother?"

"Yes." He turned to the owl which had led Flitwick here and started making owl-like sounds to it. _He was a Polymouth!_ There hadn't been a genuine Polymouth for over six hundred years! But it must have done the boy quite a bit of good being in this jungle environment. "Owl says she can take Rad to Neeta. Neeta will follow owl back to us." And so he gave his small knife to the owl by the dull side of the blade, and took off into the inky jungle.

Then the boy sat down and pulled another of the small knives from the sheath on his left wrist, and sat down on the branch to eat his mango. "How does your stick stay up?"

"With magic. It is a talent you possess in spades, judging by the way you are able to speak to the animals. For that matter, I'd guess you've never heard a human speak since you were adopted, and yet you understand me perfectly."

"How is the speech related to the stick?"

"That's a very complicated question, Wayat, but the short answer is that they're both caused by the same thing, which we call magic. It's a kind of energy, just as light and heat are energy, and it's part of nature as they are, but for a wizard such as yourself, it's something you can actually control."

Wayat nodded his understanding. His ears twitched a tad, and then he said, "Mother comes, Fillius."

And moments later, Flitwick heard the sound of her passage, as well, followed swiftly by seeing her visage. She was, indeed, an ape, a species known to the rest of the world as the Tropical Yeti. Completely non-magical, but with some magical properties in their fur, they had been hunted by wizards in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but when some claims were made about them becoming intelligent, such hunting was made illegal by the IWC.

Wayat jumped down from the tree limb he'd been sitting on to the ground below, and Flitwick followed him, dismounting when he touched down. Wayat said, "Don't let go of your stick, Fillius. The manu will steal it."

Nodding in acknowledgement, the teacher kept his hands on his broom. "Thank you, Wayat. Now your mother will not be able to understand me, so I hope you won't mind translating for us?" He nodded, and Flitwick turned to the beautiful Yeti woman. "I am from a school, a place to teach many youngsters together, and at this school we teach them how to use their magic. Your son can use magic, and we would like to teach it to him. It is far away, but he will be able to come back during our celebration times and during the summer."

The language of the Mangani is harsh and guttural, and as much about signs and body language as actual words. Hearing them come from Wayat was not as odd as he expected it to be, though. It was clear that he was fully adapted to this environment. Wayat _was_ Mangani, and not just in name.

Neeta spoke to him, and as she did, Wayat translated for him. "She says, 'Why does Wayat go with you when you can come to him?' "

"Because I am not the only teacher, and we have many students who should not come into your jungle, but whom we must also teach."

" 'He does not know your ways, only the ways of Mangani.' "

Flitwick nodded. It was a valid concern. "I agree. I would place him with a family of our kind who could teach him our ways, prepare him to learn about magic. They would care for and teach him, but they would not take him from you." He was thinking of asking the Weasleys to foster the boy. They were very patient parents, with plenty of experience since they had six boys of their own.

Neeta shuffled on her feet, a little agitated. " 'Why must he learn this?' "

"Because it is a part of him, and as that part grows, without knowing how to control it, it may become dangerous." That was a harsh truth, but it was the truth no less. There had been many cases over the years of parents trying to keep their children from learning magic, who later were injured or died because of accidental magic.

Neeta growled a little. She didn't want to let her son travel so far. "'Show what magic is,'" she commanded.

Nodding in agreement, Flitwick pulled his wand, and aiming at a monkey which was coming to steal from him, just as Wayat had warned him, he fired off a stunner. "Stupefy!" The monkey was stunned and fell from the branch it was hanging from to the ground. To Neeta, he said, "Right now the monkey lives. He's just knocked out." He aimed at the monkey again and said, "Enervate!" and the little beast woke. He shook his head to clear it, then screeched and ran off at full speed, jumping into the nearest tree and getting as far away from Flitwick as he could. The diminutive professor returned his wand to its holster.

Wayat was ogling him, but Neeta's face had cleared. "'Magic is tooth and claw to Wayat?'" Defense and offense was something she understood.

Flitwick nodded. "That's not all it is, but it is definitely that."

Neeta sighed. "'How long is learning for?'"

"Seven years, but with breaks in between for visiting parents and family. There is a break in winter and one in summer. I would personally make sure he got to come home to you at those times."

At this Neeta growled, and started pacing. Wayat had made a decision for himself, though. He got down on all fours and crawled up to his mother, speaking to her privately in their own language. Finally she nodded at him and he hugged her. Then she walked away. Wayat turned to Flitwick. "I will come with you."

He nodded and said, "All right. Please take hold of the owl, Wayat. I'm going to get us back a lot faster than flying would take."

"More of this magic?"

"You're going to learn, my boy, that the uses and expressions of magic are many and highly varied." Once Wayat had hold of the owl, Flitwick said, "Now this is going to feel a little odd." With a crack, the tiny little man, the owl, and the young ape were gone from the jungle, and the only evidence they were ever there was the heaviness of Neeta's heart.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Flitwick took them to the edge of the wards of Hogwarts. Having no experience with Apparation, Wayat landed on his rump with a squawk. "Maybe fast, but not fun," he said.

He grinned at the boy. "Neither is two weeks on a broom." He held a hand out to help him stand back up. Wayat took it, and once he was standing, he let the post owl go. He watched her flight and the huge stone structure that she winged her way toward caught his attention.

"What is that?"

"That, Wayat, is Hogwarts Castle, the building which houses Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your enrollment in this school has been assured since the day of your birth. You had only to accept it, and now that you have, we have a few things we need to take care of for you." He picked up a couple of spare leaves from the ground and began casting spells on them. First he increased their size, then he transfigured them into a crude tunic and breeches. "These are very simple, and won't last long, but they'll do until we can buy you some proper clothing and some shoes." He helped Wayat into the garments, which he'd made loose on purpose. He didn't want to put him into anything too restricting right off the bat.

But Wayat smiled. "This is warm," he exclaimed. After all, England, even in summer, was no where near as warm as the jungles he was used to.

Flitwick took Wayat up to the castle, noting how observant he was of how things moved. The slightest movement of the wind in the trees garnered at least a little attention from him, until it was dismissed as the wind and not a predator. He wondered if that was normal for him or if the habit was emphasized right now because he was in unfamiliar territory. Well, being in the Weasley household would do nothing to lessen that wariness, not with the twins there.

Professor Flitwick brought Wayat to the infirmary to begin with, and used Madame Pomfrey's fireplace to call Professor McGonagall.

For his part, Wayat was truly astounded. He had learned to make stones into claws and tusks, but he would never have thought build a hollow mountain! Had magic been used to build it? Or had the stones been stacked upon one another by some other means? He thought they were too big to lift with hands. But he had no idea what to expect in this strange place.

In the infirmary, he was met by a female, older, in a white frock and hat. She looked very surprised by him, but told him to sit on one of the flat, squishy, surfaces, which she called a bed. He saw an opening in the wall of the mountain, and went to sit on the one closest to it. He was able to see outside, and it as a great view from there out onto the grounds.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Professor McGonagall soon came into the infirmary, and was greeted by the sight of a boy with wildly tangled and matted hair dressed in obviously transfigured clothing standing on a bed to look out the window. Professor Flitwick saw her expression and quickly began to explain. "Well we were half right. He was adopted by primitives, but they aren't human. They call their species Mangani, which means great ape in their language. I recognized them as Tropical Yeti."

"The adoption magic will work as long as both parties to it are sentient. But I wasn't aware that any of the Yeti species were so."

"Neither was I. I certainly think someone needs to see if the other two species have developed sentience. Anyway, that's who's had the raising of him. She made her decision to let him come to us quite quickly. And he's a Polymouth, Minerva! That has to have been dead useful being raised like he was. Sentient they may be, but the Book wasn't kidding about no societal norms. The Mangani still live as wild apes. They still have thick fur and live in a jungle that's warm year round, so they haven't developed any need for clothing. I don't think they have much in the way of tool use either. But his mother, Neeta, was quite intelligent. She asked for a demonstration, and when I used a stunner on a little monkey that was trying to steal my broom, she instantly understood that magic is a weapon, that for Wayat magic will be tooth and claw, as she put it."

Madame Pomfrey had run her wand over the boy while he looked out the window, and was surprised to see him grab her wrist. She shouted in surprise.

Professor Flitwick ran over. "Wayat, she's not trying to hurt you. Magic is not only a weapon. I used it to make the things you are wearing. It is what keeps a broom in the air and what allowed Neeta to become your mother, and you to speak to all creatures. It can to great things or simple things. And Madame Pomfrey is concerned with your health. She is using her magic to look at flesh and bone that are hidden from us by skin, to check for illness and injury."

Wayat frowned, but released her.

"Madame Pomfrey, I'd not suggest sneaking up on him again."

Shaken, but understanding, she said, "Of course. My apologies, young man. I didn't mean to startle you. Now, let me take a look?"

Wayat nodded, his face clearing at her apology. She ran her diagnostics quickly, and stepped back.

"Well, he's really quite healthy. There are signs that food was short some time in the past, but given what you've told us about his background, I doubt this was from intentional neglect. It was most likely from famine. There are some scars, no telling where they came from, and he's only had the first few series of childhood vaccinations. He'll need a dragonpox series, polio, diphtheria, tetanus, pertussis, measles, mumps and rubella vaccinations. He's also corrected his own vision by transfiguration of the eye's shape. I would think that was accidental magic, but it is a permanent transfiguration so he'll need no glasses. Other than that, he's fit as a fiddle. He just needs a bath and a haircut."

Flitwick said, "Well good. Can you begin the vaccinations tonight?"

"I can, but I'd recommend getting him some better clothing and that bath first. And a haircut. They'll make him a bit sleepy, and better he went to sleep clean and dry."

Professor McGonagall said, "Well why don't I go and firecall Mr. Weasley? He'll be better able to help you with the grooming tasks than I, and they'll be introduced that way, as well."

Flitwick nodded. "An excellent idea. Wayat?"

"Yes, Fillius?"

"The father of the family you'll be staying with while you are here is coming to help us get you cleaned up. I understand that you haven't had any hygiene since your adoption, so we're going to help you get caught up with that, and trim and wash your hair."

"What means hygiene?"

If any of the teachers were shocked, they hid it well. "The practice of staying clean for health reasons. Also, one of the social norms you're going to be learning about is that humans don't like to be able to smell one another easily, nor do they, as a general rule, like dirty things or people. To humans, body smells mean filth, and filth means disease, which disgusts them and makes them afraid."

Wayat nodded slowly, taking in the information. "They recognize each other by other ways than scent?"

"Yes. We recognize each other by face and voice."

"What must I do?"

"Well first we're going to get you completely clean. We're going to take you to a room with a bath, a small pool really, and scrub you down, wash your hair. Then we'll dry you off and see if your hair needs cutting at all. Then we'll get you some clothes that are better made than my poor attempt at Transfiguration, and put you to bed for the night. There are some medicines that Madame Pomfrey wants to give you, as well, medicines you should have had when you were younger to prevent some very serious diseases, and the medicines will make you very tired."

Wayat said, "All right."

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Arthur Weasley was spending a pleasant evening at home with the family, when the fireplace flashed green. He looked and saw Professor McGonagall's head in the flames. "Arthur, may I come through? There's been a major development."

"Absolutely. We were just about to sit down for tea. Would you join us?"

She stepped through the Floo and into their living room, casting an Ash Removal Charm to get the grit off after she had done. "I can't stay," she said urgently, "and I really need you to come with me. We found Harry Potter!"

The table erupted with various shocked statements, and both Arthur and Molly were too shocked themselves to quell it for a moment. Then sense penetrated the shock, and Arthur shouted over the din, "Quiet!" Once a more reasonable volume had been reached, he said, "Please join us for a moment or two. Molly, would you get a cuppa for the Headmistress?"

Shaking herself loose from the surprise, Molly nodded and headed for the kettle while Minerva took a seat at the table. She brought a cup of tea with milk, but no sugar, knowing that was how the tall Scottswoman preferred it. "Thank you, Molly." She took a sip, then said, "As I said, the boy has been found. None of the spells worked, not because he had been killed, but because he had been adopted. Near as we can tell, Harry's own magic reacted to the primitive people he found himself with and it was recorded as a magical adoption. His name is now actually Wayat of Mangani."

"Primitive people? Muggles?"

"Both, as well as not being human. The Mangani is what they call themselves, but our species name for them is the Tropical Yeti. They are a very ape-like species, still quite wild, but they have attained sentience, or whatever portion of the adoption ritual the boy used wouldn't have worked." She shook her head. "Obviously, we're trying to keep the information that he's been found from getting around. We want to get you set as his foster family before the likes of Lucius Malfoy get wind of this."

"Foster?" asked Molly.

"Oh, yes. His adoption by the Mangani woman is quite legal, and magically binding. In fact, based on what Fillius has told me, she only allowed him to come with the promise he would return on the holidays. Thanks to the regulations that were passed after his disappearance, we have to go through Children's Services, but as long as Malfoy is ignorant, he can't make a counter claim against you. There's nothing he can do legally against Neeta, Wayat's mother, because of the nature of the adoption."

"What about illegally?" asked Arthur. "We both know what he is."

"She's in Africa, and we can keep her exact location secret." She turned to the children. "You must understand, all of you. I am certain that the Mangani are quite capable of defending themselves against lions or wolves and such, but they would have no defense against a dark wizard. I will not, therefore, tell any of you the nation in which their home jungle sits. It's small enough he could probably find them from there. If you somehow learn it later, keep that information close to the chest."

Everyone at the table agreed.

"Now, for tonight, Arthur, we're going to need your help. I'll be going down to Madame Malkins' for a wardrobe for him, you needn't worry about that, but Fillius is going to need your help in getting him clean. We're taking him to one of the Prefects' bathrooms to use the big bathing pool, because it's going to take some room. He's been living like a wild thing, so he looks and smells like it. He _is_ polite for all of that."

Molly spoke up. "If he needs a hair cut, once you've got him clean where you can tell, I'll come in the morning and take care of it."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Very well. Arthur?"

"Right. Molly, I'll see you tonight." He kissed his wife on the cheek, and then he and the Headmistress went back to Hogwarts.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

Meeting Arthur Weasley was pleasant enough. Wayat could tell he was nice, like Fillius, and the Headmistress had already said he was a father. He did, in fact, remind him of his own stepfather, Tazee. But the bath was another story. Wayat liked swimming, but he'd never been scrubbed, and he didn't particularly care for it. Arthur did assure him that with regular maintenance it wouldn't be so hard next time. The worst part was the tugging on his hair, but eventually they got it done. In the end, his hair was trimmed to a more manageable length, and was no longer tangled or matted, which was more comfortable because it no longer pulled against his scalp.

Then came the medicines, and they were given through a hollow metal thorn called a syringe. Madame Pomfrey warned him they would not feel good, and she had to give him four of them. But he had dealt with worse pain in his life and endured it without comment. She then called for dinner to be brought to them. A small creature with very large ears and eyes wearing a black cloth with a gold emblem on it around his middle appeared with a tray of food. There were small bits of meat and fruit, as well as cubes of a yellow, soft substance Madame Pomfrey called cheese. He liked the saltiness of it. He also had his first cup of tea. He'd never drunk anything hot before, and she warned him to sip it to avoid burning his tongue. He decided he liked it.

Soon after the meal, he became very tired. Madame Pomfrey saw this and said, "You should sleep now." He nodded and took the many cloths and soft things that covered the bed, piled them on the stones in a corner made by two walls, and quickly nodded off, Gashom buried in the nest and two Rad in his hand between the fingers.

~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~ ~o~

 _Note: I want to thank everyone who reviewed. This story is sometimes slow to write, because Wayat is so much different than Harry, and I have such a long game planned here that I don't want to cause a backfire for any of the later books. There will be at least seven, by the way, if not eight. Much of what J. R. wrote will still happen, because others have not changed just because Harry became Wayat. McGonagall's still McGonagall, and Voldemort's still Voldemort. But Dumbledore's been changed. The Weasleys and Hermione will be changed from their proximity to him. A couple of others will experience personality changes due to his changed interactions. And there are a couple of original characters floating around in the future, people more closely related to the Tarzan part of the universe than the Wizarding part, but the very earliest you'll see any of them is the third book._

 _And also keep in mind that this is not a Disney story. Jane was a blond from Boston, and Clayton wasn't the villain of the piece. The Mangani are not gorillas. I've called them the Tropical Yeti in this story for that reason. They're related to Himalayan Yeti and Sasquatch, though their fur is not as thick because they live in warmer climes. I hope this helps you to visualize. Most importantly, realize that Wayat of Mangani is not Harry Potter. There are things Wayat will be willing to do that Harry never would have._

 _I hope you're enjoying yourselves. Don't forget to review!_


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